


Forget-Me-Nots (Or How Steve Rogers Learned to Chill)

by Plumcot



Series: Chlorophyll [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, It's Bucky he's the plant, M/M, Plants, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7430105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumcot/pseuds/Plumcot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers doesn't have time for your fancy relaxation. He doesn't have time for your comfy pillows, or your body wash, or your chamomile tea that tastes like plant matter with a side of "why". Steve Rogers only wants one thing in life; to work until the end of days, because at least then he can say he didn't waste his time on Earth doing nothing.  </p><p>Bucky Barnes has flowers in his hair and chlorophyll in his skin, and he doesn't have time to be stressed. Why would he, when there's rain to dance in, sun to bask in, and philodendrons to talk to? So he is, understandably, very worried about his (sadly) human neighbor who wouldn't stop and smell the roses if he faceplanted in a flower bed. Obviously something must be done.</p><p>Steve isn't all that happy when a green-skinned stranger shows up at his door and tries to give him a plant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Steve woke in the mornings, it wasn’t a lazy drift out of dreamland and into the warm embrace of sunlight. Nor was it a slow, begrudging dredge out of the arms of sleep. It was a snap. One minute he was asleep, the next he was shoving himself out of bed, doing up the covers with military precision. It was a studio apartment, so it was only about two steps to the kitchen, nice and efficient. He made breakfast like he was working in an assembly line, and served it on a single plain-white plate. Then he ate it silently at his table, staring across at the empty chair he kept for guests. 

Then he washed all of the dishes – _all_ of them, even the ones which wisdom dictated he should soak before scrubbing – and headed out the door to work at the Dairy Queen. He was on his feet all day there, so by the time he got home he was ready to flop into a chair... and work at his computer for a few more hours, drawing commissions for a few dozen bucks each. By the time he was ready for bed, he didn’t climb under the covers so much as drop like a bag of rocks.

There was food, there was work, there was more work. There was cleaning because what would become of the world if Steve allowed dust to collect on his floor. And that was it. That was his life.

Until one day Steve heard a knock in the middle of drawing his latest commission. He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, then got up to deal with the persnickety neighbor or charity collector or whoever had decided to interrupt his work. He opened the door, grumbling, and found a large potted plant standing at his doorstep.

The plant was, of course, being held by a human being, but the plant was all he could see. It was this big tall thing with spikey leaves, and it was right in front of the face of whoever was holding it.

Steve said “Um”

The plant said, “This is for you.” 

The plant thrust forward into Steve’s arms, and he stumbled back a little with the weight of it. “Excuse me?” He tilted the pot to the side to get a good look at the man behind the plant, and his eyes widened a little when he saw him. He was tall, light-skinned and handsome, wearing a pair of grey sweat-pants and a green t-shirt. One of his arms was missing just above the elbow. He had long, shaggy-brown hair that looked ruffled in a way that bordered the line between “artfully messy” and “I don’t own a hairbrush.” But trailing down his hair was a series of vines, blooming with delicate blue flowers. And the guy’s skin was green. 

“Mother-In-Law’s-Tongue.” The guy said.

Okay so his skin wasn’t totally green, but it was green-tinged. Like he’d just kinda misted himself with the color and now there was a leaf-green sheen over his entire body. 

“She’s pretty hardy, so you don’t gotta worry too much about neglecting her.”

And were those vines actually growing out of his scalp? By God they were. They were just poking straight out of his skin like normal hair follicles only they were green. And they were flowering.

“Just make sure she gets good sun and you water her every once in a while, and you should be good.”

There was a moment of silence. The guy frowned and cocked his head at Steve. “Oh, are you waiting to be introduced?”

“What?” Steve squeaked.

“I figured I’d let you name her, since she’s your plant now. And I mean, she has a name already but plant names aren’t really pronounceable to, y’know, people who use tongues and vocal cords to talk.”

“Why did you give me a plant!?”

Another pause. The guy once again frowned, slowly, as if he had to pull his thoughts through molasses to get them to the surface. 

Finally, he spoke. “Sunset. Her name can be Sunset.” He nodded, as if to say “job well done”, then turned around and just… walked down the hall and out of sight. The door swung closed on Steve’s face.

So now Steve had a plant.

He put the plant down next to one of his windows and blinked at it for a second. Then he shook his head and went back to his computer. Weirder things had happened, no need to dwell. 

...

Except the guy came back again the next day.

“Okay, what the Hell.” Steve opened the door to find the guy standing there, holding another pot. He was still green.

The guy held the plant up. “It’s Aspidistra. Cast-Iron plant. Really tough, just like the Mother-In-Law’s-Tongue.” He peered into the apartment. “How’s Sunset doing, by the way?”

“She’s doing fine.” It had only been one day. Did this guy expect Steve to kill a plant in one day? “Look, who are you?”

“The name’s Bucky.” Bucky smiled. 

“Steve.” Steve sighed. “Listen, Bucky, I don’t need-”

Bucky plopped the plant into Steve’s arms. “His name’s Harmony. He’ll need just about the same care as Sunset.” He smiled, did a jaunty little two-fingered salute, then walked down the hall. 

Steve grumbled to himself as he set Harmony – _the plant,_ he didn’t need to start using names for non-sapient packages of chlorophyll – down next to the other plant. Much more of this, and his house was going to turn into a jungle… 

...

That became a very real fear when, the next day, the door knocked again. Steve froze, mouth hanging open incredulously, tablet pen dangling from his hand. Was this meant to be a regular thing? Was Bucky just going to keep coming by and shoving random plants at him? This had to stop before his apartment was overrun with greenery. The last few times, Bucky hadn’t let Steve get a word in edgewise, but now Steve was prepared. As long as he made sure he got the first word in. _The foliage madness would end here._

The door knocked again, and Steve shot out of his chair. He ran to the door and opened it to find Bucky standing there with yet another pot in his hand. His skin was still green. Steve couldn’t get over that.

“Hey!” Bucky smiled. “This one is-”

_“Why are you giving me these?”_

Bucky blinked. “Uh- this one is-”

“You don’t know me and I don’t know you, and I’ve never given _anyone_ any reason to think I might like plants, so where the hell is this coming from? What, you had too many and you just picked a random apartment to pawn ‘em off on?”

Bucky stared blankly at him for a few moments. Then he shrugged and looked at the floor. “I dunno, I mean… I can see your apartment from mine, and it looks kinda depressing. It’s so white and clean, like one of those rooms they make microchips in. No offense.”

Steve was offended.

“Anyway, a few days ago I looked through the window and I saw you having breakfast alone in this bare white room, and I thought, ‘man, that guy needs some plants.’ To brighten up your place, y’know? So I headed down to the Home Depot, picked out something I thought you’d like, and… yeah.”

Steve frowned. “Wait a minute, you live in the building?”

“Well, yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “What, you didn’t know? Like I said, I can see your place from my window.”

Steve snorted. “Like I spend my time looking out the window.”

“…You don’t look out your window?”

“Yeah? So? What’s wrong with that?” Steve crossed his arms. “I’m a busy person, I don’t have time to- to stare at trees or whatever.”

Bucky’s whole face deflated, and he got this expression like he was looking at a kicked puppy. He looked down at the plant in his hand, and handed it to Steve with a renewed urgency. “Please take her. She’s an aloe vera, she doesn’t need much care. Just feel her soil every once in a while and water her if it dries out.”

Steve sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Whatever. Her name?”

“…Uh… Abby?”

“Did you just make that up off the top of your head?”

“Yup.” He waved Steve on. “Go, put her down!”

“Okay, okay…” Steve went over to his window and put Abby down next to Sunset. He looked back, and found Bucky still standing in the doorway. “…Why are you still here?”

Bucky gestured for him to come out into the hallway. “C’mon, follow me!”

Steve frowned. “What? Where?”

“I’m taking you to the park!”

“No!” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know you!” Steve threw his hands out. “I barely know anything _about_ you, I’m not following you anywhere!”

Bucky seemed to mull this over for a moment. Then he nodded, “Fair enough,” and stepped into the apartment.

Steve gave him a sidelong look. “What are you doing?”

Bucky blinked. “Oh, sorry. Can I come in?”

“Well since you’re _already in my house,_ sure, why not.”

“Thanks.” Bucky stepped into Steve’s living room and looked around, appraising the area. He looked like he was getting ready to do some kind of magic; like he saw something more in the walls of the place than Steve ever did. 

Bucky’s eyes fell on a spot of sun cast on the floor. It was evening, bordering on nighttime, but one of Steve’s windows was big and west-facing, so there was a patch of intense orange light on the floor just big enough to curl up in. Bucky grabbed two pillows from the couch and put them in the sunspot. Then he lay down.

“What the fuck.” Steve stared down at him.

“Well? Come on!” Bucky said from the floor. He patted the pillow beside him.

Steve grimaced. “Why on Earth would I do that. _Why are you in my house.”_

“Because you, my friend, need to learn how to relax.”

“Not now I don’t, I have work to do!”

“That’s why you need to learn how to relax! C’mon, just lay in the sun for a few minutes. What’s the worst that could happen?” He patted the pillow again. 

Steve sighed. He ran his hand over his face. “If I do this, will you stop shoving plants at me?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “…Sure.”

Steve got down on the floor and put his head on the pillow. He lay stiff as a board, arms at his sides.

Bucky smiled. “Great! Now just relax and let the sunshine feed your soul.”

Steve grimaced.

Thirty seconds passed. “I have work to do.” Steve said to the ceiling.

Bucky took a second to answer. “It can’t wait for fifteen minutes?”

“Well, no, I mean- yeah it can wait but I’d rather not-”

“Shh. Relax.”

Steve grumbled and crossed his arms, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. There was no point to this; where was the productivity in just lying on the floor? He felt restless and jittery, like he wouldn’t be okay until he picked up that pen and started working again. 

But… the sunlight was nice. It warmed his whole body. Somehow it was different from the feeling you got cuddling up under the blankets or sitting next to a radiator. This warmth was sweeter; more special. Like a hug from your favorite person. 

Minutes passed, and suddenly Steve was aware that the sunlight had moved across the floor; now his right side was cold. He grumbled and got up, scooting himself back into the path of the window. That’s when he saw Bucky.

Bucky was lying spread-eagle on the ground, his eyes closed, a dopy smile spread across his face. And the flowers in his hair were standing straight up, craning toward the sunlight. Almost like they were alive.

“What the fuck.” Steve said, staring.

Bucky frowned and opened his eyes. “What?”

Steve pointed at Bucky’s flowers. “What the _fuck,_ how are you doing that!?”

“…The flowers?” Bucky looked up. He shrugged. “They just kinda do it on their own.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, right. What, are they made of wire? You put ‘em up while I wasn’t looking just to mess with me?”

Bucky blinked. He frowned up at the flowers, then frowned at Steve. Then his eyes widened in realization. “Oh, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“I’m a plant-person.”

Silence fell. Now it was Steve’s turn to blink at Bucky, staring with wide eyes like he’d grown a second head. His eyes darted from Bucky’s flowers, to his green skin, to the patch of sunlight he was sitting in. Oh.” He said, weakly. “As in you’re… part plant?”

“Yup.” Bucky smiled. 

Steve vaguely remembered hearing about plant-people once upon a time, even stumbling across a few articles every once in a while; but he’d been under the impression they were rare, in the zero-point percentages. He never expected to _actually meet one._ Suddenly his mind raced with questions.

Bucky took out his phone and checked the time. “You’ve still got three minutes left to hold up your end of the deal!” He flopped back down on his pillow and closed his eyes like nothing even happened.

Steve stared at Bucky for a few more moments. Then he lay back down on the floor. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but-

“So lying in the sun like this is like dinner for you?”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile, his eyes still closed. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Huh.” Steve paused. “What’re you doing in the city? I thought plant people lived in forests?”

“Felt like a change of pace.”

“...Right.”

It sounded so _normal._ They were talking about this stuff like it was the weather, but here Steve was with an actual plant-person lying right next to him. It felt like meeting Bigfoot and then casually talking about where he buys his shoes. 

But of course, this _was_ normal for Bucky, and Steve was probably being an ass by prodding at his personal life. He wouldn’t ask anyone else about their biology the minute they walked into his house, so why was Bucky different? The answer, of course, was that Bucky happened to have flowers growing out of his head, but it was still rude. Steve resolved to keep his silence. He wouldn’t bother him. _He wouldn’t bother him._

“So-” Steve cut himself off.

“Yeah?” Bucky opened one eye curiously.

Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from asking how plant-people reproduced. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Bucky just shrugged and closed his eyes again.

Three minutes later, Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked over to find Bucky smiling at him. “So?” Bucky asked. “Didja have fun?”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah. Sure is great to just lay around and do nothing.”

Bucky’s smile only grew brighter. “I know, right?” He stood up and meandered toward the door. “See ya around!” He said, throwing another little salute and shutting the door behind him.

“Yeah, bye.” Steve muttered.

He glanced at the tiny jungle of plants accumulating by his window. Suddenly the gifts made so much more sense.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Steve snapped awake, made his bed, turned around to step into the kitchen, and was greeted by a burst of color.

The plants piled up by the window were a stark contrast to the greys and whites of the apartment. It was as if Jackson Pollock himself had walked in with a giant paintbrush and just splattered the corner with leaf-green. 

It was… nice. Steve hated to admit it, but was soothing, having a little bit of nature in the apartment. They were a soft, green-and-brown contrast to the harsh whites of the rest of the room. A little respite from the usual stress of his life.

Steve looked over the plants and noticed that Sunset and Harmony were looking a little dry, so he grabbed a cup and watered them. “If he keeps coming over this place is gonna look like a jungle.” He paused, frowning at himself. “And now I’m talking to plants.” He muttered. “Great.”

He glanced up at the window, and had a thought; Bucky had said he could see Steve’s apartment from his window. That meant Steve could see Bucky’s. He searched the windows across the divide until he found one with massive amounts of greenery piled in front of it. Not just in front of the window, but hanging from the ceiling and climbing up the walls. Yup, that was Bucky’s alright.

Suddenly Bucky walked in front of the window. Steve’s eyebrows raised; he was naked except for his underwear. He was squishy in a cuddly kind of way, with a cute little tummy that poked out over the waistband of his boxers. He walked up to the window, picked up a watering can and started watering the plants with a serene little smile on his face. And then he looked up.

Steve froze.

Bucky smiled. He waved, and mouthed the word “hi!”

Steve hesitantly raised his hand and waved back.

Bucky held up a finger, signaling for Steve to wait. He stepped away for a few moments, and came back with a piece of paper, which he pressed against the window. It read, in blue crayon, _“looking out the window at last?”_

Steve scowled and flipped him off.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, hand on his chest. Then he wrote something else on the back of the paper, shoulders still shaking with laughter, and pressed the message to the window. _“how r the plants?”_

Steve crossed his arms, and thought. Bucky had already agreed to stop bringing him plants; if Steve really wanted, this was his chance to cut off communication with him forever. No more constant bothering, no more interrupting his work just to lie in the sun and do nothing. He could get rid of him. But did he want to?

Steve sighed and motioned for Bucky to wait. He rummaged around in his desk drawer, pulled out a pen and paper, wrote a quick message then pressed it to the window. _“They’re doing fine. Watered them this morning.”_

Bucky smiled and scribbled a new message. _“not abby tho?”_

Steve rolled his eyes. He knew the meaning of ‘desert plant’, thank you very much. _“No, I’m not an idiot.”_

Bucky laughed. “didnt think so!” He had to grab a new piece of paper to fit the next message. _“ur sure u dont want any more plants?”_

Steve pursed his lips. He glanced over at the tiny jungle he already had in his house. Then he sighed and wrote his message. _“Only if you have extras laying around. Stop buying them for me.”_

Bucky beamed. He started scribbling again, but Steve beat him to it.

 _“I have to go to work.”_ Underlined three times. _“Can’t keep talking.”_ Then, as an afterthought, _“See you later.”_

Bucky blinked, then nodded. He gave Steve a thumbs up – who even did that anymore – then walked into his kitchen. 

Steve went to go start breakfast. He’d already wasted about fifteen minutes, he didn’t need to lose another second. 

...

Steve really, really wasn’t expecting “see you later” to be a binding contract.

That evening, just as he was putting the finishing touches on the commission, the door knocked. Steve knew it was going to be Bucky before he even opened it, and sure enough there he was, smiling.

“Hey!” He looked like an eager puppy. Steve was going to feel like a horrible person, kicking him out.

“Hey...” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Listen, I’m kinda working right now, I don’t really have time to hang out.”

Bucky’s face fell. “What? I thought... you worked someplace else? Like in an actual building?”

“Yeah, I work at a Dairy Queen, but I also draw commissions.” Steve gestured to his desk, “and I’m in the middle of one right now, so. Later?”

Bucky sighed. “Alright, later.” He walked off down the hallway.

Steve sighed in relief, sat down, and finished the commission.

...

The next day he started a new one. Bucky came over, expecting him to be free, but when Steve opened the door he just told him the same thing. “I’m working right now, come back later.”

Bucky frowned. “You’re still on that drawing?”

“No, I started a new one.”

“You’re just doing them back to back?”

Steve sighed. “Pretty much, yeah. I’m paying for my own apartment, I need all the extra money I can get.”

Bucky was starting to give him a funny look somewhere between worry and disbelief, as if Steve had walked up to him with a missing leg insisting it was just a flesh wound. “Sure... but you _have_ to have free time, right?”

“I have weekends off.”

“Great! So can I-”

“But I usually use the time to do more commissions and catch up on my cleaning.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised. Then he leaned against the doorway. “You need to take a break.”

Steve groaned and ran his hand over his face. He got enough of this from his coworkers. And his boss “I need to pay the rent, is what I need.”

“I don’t think you’ll starve if you take _one day_ off. Come on, don’t you ever feel like a little me-time?”

Steve gave him a withering look. “Look, I have my own apartment to pay for, a slew of medications to keep up on, and no parents or roommates to help with any of it. I need as much money as I can get.”

“Yeah, but you also need time off! You can't _just_ live on necessities!" Bucky peered into Steve's apartment. "Shit, is that why all your stuff is white? Anything more colorful would feel like a luxury?”

Steve bristled at the sarcasm. Then he looked at Bucky’s face and realized he was genuinely concerned, and that made him even _more_ annoyed. He scowled. “Look, it’s my life, okay? Now if you’ll _excuse_ me, I have a drawing I have to get back to.” Bucky lingered in the doorway trying to come up with a response, but Steve rolled his eyes, shoved him out of the way and shut the door. 

He stood there, heart thumping. He listened to the slow mournful sound of Bucky walking away. Then he slammed his palm into his forehead. He shouldn’t have done that. Bucky was only trying to help- but who did he think he was, acting like he knew what was best for Steve? But he meant well- but Steve was still furious at him- but he didn’t have the _right_ to be furious-

Steve took a deep breath. He gripped his arms so tight they hurt. Then he went back to his tablet. 

The end result might have been a little sub-par due to his frayed patience, but he sent it in the end anyway, just wanting it to be over with. 

...

The next morning, Steve walked into his living room and was immediately greeted by his plants. Normally it was a cheery sight, an admittedly-welcome break from the white and grey of the house. Today they were just a reminder. Like a tattoo of your ex’s name.

Steve sighed. He tried to trudge past the plants, but found he didn’t have the heart to ignore them, and stopped right in front of the little jungle. He stared down at the greenery. He was _supposed_ to be making breakfast. He was _supposed_ to be getting ready for work. He was _supposed_ to be a busy, productive member of society. 

Instead he got down on the floor, right next to the plants, and just kinda sat there. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to make breakfast; making breakfast would be an admission that he lived in the real world, and the real world included things like jobs and rent and being an asshole to the guy you were kinda sorta starting to like. He’d much rather stay here in his little jungle, breathing in the faint scent of potting soil.

Eventually he did have to get up. So he forced himself up off the ground and, in turning towards the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Bucky’s window. Bucky was there. Watering his plants.

Steve stopped and stared. He looked so peaceful, going from plant to plant and making lazy conversation with them. If Steve didn’t feel like an asshole before, he did now. 

Bucky looked up.

Steve froze and tried to turn away.

Bucky waved his hands frantically, mouthing _“no no no!”_ and something that might have been _“stay!”_

Steve sighed and turned back to the window, looking down at the floor. He held up a finger – one second – then went to get a pen and paper. He wrote two words; _“I’m sorry.”_

Bucky read the sign, and made a “p’shaw” motion with his hand. He fetched his own piece of paper, and another crayon; green this time. _“its fine. I was bein pushy.”_

_“Still shouldn’t have shoved you.”_

Bucky shrugged. _“yeah maybe dont do that again”_

Steve winced. _“I won’t. Promise.”_

Bucky smiled. _“I kno u wont”_ He scribbled another sign, and pressed it to the window with furrowed brows. _“Im still worried abt u”_

Steve tensed. He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from blowing up again. _“You don’t have to be. I’m fine.”_

Bucky’s next sign took a bit longer than the others. _“whens the last time u remember relaxing?”_

Steve frowned; he figured it was probably pathetic that an exact date immediately came to mind. And he also knew that if he shared it with Bucky, it would open a floodgate. Bucky would never leave him alone afterwards.

He glanced around his white-and-grey apartment. He looked at the clock, ticking its way down the morning hours, and shuddered with disgust at the realization that he really, really dreaded the moment that clock read “time for work”. 

He picked up the paper. Scribbled a message. And pressed it to the window.

_“The last time I can remember was when I was lying in the sun with you.”_

Bucky’s eyes widened. He scrambled for the paper and scribbled in huge green letters, _“U R MY STUDENT NOW”_

Steve blinked. He almost reached for the paper, but settled for holding out his hands in a confused gesture.

Bucky slammed the paper insistently to the glass. _“PLANT SCHOOL. U R LEARNING HOW 2 RELAX. PLANT STYLE.”_

Steve frowned. _“I don’t have time!”_

Bucky gave him a very unamused look. _“saturday. my place. no buts.”_

Steve tamped down the urge to protest. He sighed and nodded, then pointed with his thumb at the clock, indicating that he really needed to go. Bucky nodded and waved goodbye. Steve waved back, then went to  
go make breakfast.

He couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive about what he’d just set in motion.

...

Saturday morning, Steve snapped awake, made his bed, and immediately remembered he had an appointment. Today, he was supposed to be learning how to relax. Which was a problem, because as soon as he walked into his living room and caught a glimpse of his desk, he got the itch to start working. 

He pursed his lips and stared at the tablet out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t supposed to be working today. He’d made a commitment, and damn if he wasn’t going to keep it. But... he wasn’t about to go over to Bucky’s house this early in the morning. That would be rude, right? So maybe he would just work until lunch, and _then_ have a day of relaxation. 

He had a quick breakfast then hopped onto the computer. Something deep inside him relaxed as soon as he had the pen in his hand. He worked until lunch, then put down the pen. He stared at the screen for a few moments, willing himself to get up and walk away. Then he turned off the entire computer and stashed the tablet away; there, now he _had_ to go see Bucky.

He stood up, and guilt immediately washed over him. What was the point in a day off if he wasn’t using it to get things done? He turned to computer back on, waited for it to boot up, then started drawing again. Just another hour, then he could go over to Bucky’s guilt-free. Just another hour.

At two in the afternoon, he heard a knock on the door. He knew who it would be before he even turned the knob.

“I thought you were coming over?” Bucky frowned. 

Steve looked at the floor. “I am, I just- I had some work to do, I’m just finishing up.”

Bucky deflated, and once again gave him that look of disbelieving worry. “Steve, today was s’posed to be your _relaxing_ day! Plant school, remember?”

“Yeah, well how’m I supposed to do that?” Steve threw his hands up. “I’m a human, not a plant! We can’t _all_ just sit on our asses all the time!” He winced, immediately wishing he could take it back. 

But Bucky didn’t seem offended. Instead he was nodding, finger on his chin. “Right... I guess I’m more practiced at doing nothing than you are, huh...” he chuckled. “Heh, you couldn’t even take fifteen minutes last time.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Hey, I did just fine!”

“You started a conversation in the middle! I just let it slide ‘cause I’m not a hardass.”

“Oh, well _thank God_ for that.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Okay, so you need something relaxing, but you don’t wanna just do nothing... oh!” His face lit up, and he pulled out his phone and started tapping.

Steve frowned. “What’re you doing?”

“Texting a friend.” Bucky finished tapping and waited a few moments. Then whoever he was talking to texted back, and he grinned. “Alright, follow me.” He walked out into the hall. 

Steve walked after him. “Where’re we going?”

“To the park!” Bucky said. “Finally!”

...

They walked to a modest little park not a few blocks from their building. It was nice, with big healthy trees and lush open-grass areas. There was even a tiny pond. As they walked through the park, they came upon a group of people doing yoga along with an instructor. Steve almost walked straight past them, until Bucky grabbed his arm, pulled him over, and slotted them right into the group.

“Bucky!” Steve hissed, even as Bucky was dipping into warrior pose. “Bucky we can’t do this, we haven’t paid!”

Bucky chuckled. “Relax.” He pointed at the instructor. “He’s my friend; he knows I’m good for it.”

Steve looked up at the instructor, a handsome man with dark-brown skin and a cheery smile. The instructor caught Steve’s eye, looked between him and Bucky, then waved him on, mouthing _“go ahead.”_

Steve hesitated for a moment, studying the other students. Then he jumped in, awkwardly replicating the poses that the instructor achieved with grace. 

It was... okay. The poses at least gave him something to do, rather than sitting around and photosynthesizing or whatever Bucky had been counting on. He was a complete beginner, and he got the feeling this class wasn’t exactly made for him, but he managed to follow along without falling.

When the session was done, the instructor clapped his hands together and smiled. “Alright, good work everybody! Have a nice week, and I’ll see you all next Saturday!” Everyone rang out in a chorus of goodbyes, and the group dispersed. 

Then the instructor walked over to Steve. “Hey!” He said, sticking his hand out. “Sam Wilson, nice to meet you!”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve took his hand. Sam had a _very firm_ handshake. 

“Steve!” Sam grinned and looked to Bucky. “So, this is the guy you’ve been talking about?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup. He’s here for plant-school.”

Sam blinked. He looked at Bucky, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Remember I told you about Steve’s complete lack of chill?”

“Yeah?” Sam nodded. Apparently Bucky had already informed Sam thoroughly about Steve’s lifestyle choices. Great.

“I’m teaching him how to chill. Plant style.”

Sam clapped his hand to his chest and laughed. “That’s _great,_ oh my God!” He looked to Steve. “Hey, can I offer a few tips?” 

“Uh... sure?” 

Sam postured his hands, grinning like he was about to blow Steve’s mind. “Okay. Get in _tree_ pose. And just stay like that. Forever.”

He and Bucky immediately cracked up. Steve let out a little chuckle, laughing more at them than at the joke. “That was horrible.” He said, smiling.

“Aw, come on.” Sam smiled back. “It was _genius.”_

“Yeah...” Steve said. “So, uh, it was great meeting you!” He gave a little wave and started back towards the apartment, expecting Bucky to follow him.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” Bucky said, frowning.

Steve stopped. “Uh... home?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nuh uh. You don’t get off that easy.”

Steve had really been hoping this would be just a short outing, and he’d be able to get some drawing in before bed. He still felt guilty just for stepping out of the house when he had work to do. But it looked like Bucky planned to keep him away from the computer as long as possible. He sighed. “Well what’re we gonna do? We’re not just gonna do yoga until it gets dark, are we?”

“Nah, nah.” Bucky shook his head. “No more yoga. I was thinking more... a leisurely walk through the park? Maybe an afternoon nap in the grass?” He looked to Sam. “You wanna join us?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got one more class left.” A bunch of people in tank tops and yoga pants started walking over, and Sam stood up straight and waved to them. “That’s them!” He said to Steve and Bucky. Then he grinned, making finger-guns at them. “I guess it’s time for you guys to make like a tree and... _leaf.”_

Bucky burst out laughing again. Steve just groaned and shook his head. They waved goodbye to Sam and took off, leaving him to his class.

After that, they just... walked. They kept a leisurely pace, owing mostly to the fact that Bucky fell behind every time Steve tried to speed up. The afternoon sun was warm but gentle on their backs, and a quiet breeze teased their hair. 

As they walked, Steve noticed Bucky’s flowers moving. Of course they always craned in the direction of the sun, but now, with the sun at a different angle every time they walked, the flowers were moving so fast it was visible. 

Bucky noticed him staring at them and laughed. “You have a thing for my flowers, huh?”

Steve forced his gaze forward. “Sorry...”

“No, s’okay. I get that a lot.”

“That’s just it, I bet everyone bothers you about the whole plant-person thing. I don’t wanna be one of those people.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised a fraction, and he smiled. They walked in silence for a few more moments, just them and the path.

Bucky turned to him. “Y’know, something a lotta people don’t realize is that I can move them at will.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yup! Usually they just move on their own towards the sun, but if I _want_ to...” he leaned his head down so Steve could see, and suddenly the flowers started wriggling around like an octopus at a concert. 

Steve let out a surprised laugh. “Huh! That’s pretty cool!”

Bucky smiled. “It’s okay to ask questions. I mean, some questions are pretty obviously offensive, so maybe hold back on those, but if you’re curious I don’t mind answering some stuff.”

“Okay...” Steve nodded. He paused. Then, “So you said you moved out here for a change of pace? Where'd you live before?"

"In the forest, like you probably figured. I grew up in my ma’s cabin in the Catskills.”

“Hm.” Steve furrowed his brow. “A cabin, huh? You didn’t just... pop out of the ground?”

Bucky looked at Steve for a moment, appraising. Finally, he continued. “I did, actually. I was born in a whole field of Barneses, somewhere up there in the mountains. I think, anyway; I was just a baby so I don’t exactly remember.” He coughed. “Anyway, uh... all I really know is one day my ma was out hiking in the mountains, and she just found me’n my sisters uprooted on the ground, thirsty and crying and almost dead. She knew we wouldn’t survive without help, so she took us home and planted us outside her cabin. Lucky for us she’s a witch, so she spelled us back to health in no time, and raised us herself.” 

“Wow...” Steve breathed. “Do you know... why you were like that?”

“Well, ma thinks it was poachers.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Poachers? Poaching _babies?”_

Bucky nodded, getting a sad look in his eye. “Yeah, uh... we’re pretty rare, and I guess someone decided we were cute, too, so... people like to steal babies and sell ‘em, the same way people sell baby chimps.”

“Jesus.” 

“Yeah... but, uh, plant-people are really delicate when they’re young, so it’s easy to rip limbs off, right? Me’n all my sisters had something missing when ma found us.” He gestured to his missing arm. “So best guess is the poachers ripped us up by accident, decided we were ruined and just... threw us away.” He was looking at the ground now, a far-off look in his eyes. 

“Oh my God, Buck, I am so sorry.” Steve hovered next to him, unsure if he should hug him or pat him on the shoulder or what. 

“Nah, s’okay. Like I said, I was just a baby, so I don’t really remember it.” He smiled. “Besides, if it’d never happened, we never would’ve gotten adopted by our ma. It wasn’t a _good thing,_ but I still wouldn’t trade what happened after, y’know?”

Steve gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

They walked for hours. Sometimes talking, sometimes meandering forward in companionable silence. It was good. It was calming. But Steve couldn’t help but wonder every few minutes when he could go home without Bucky kicking up a fuss. All this relaxing was well and good, but without the yoga to give him a (false) sense of accomplishment, in the end he was just slacking off. It was unbearable. So when he checked his phone and found that it was six in the evening, he found himself both distressed that he’d stayed out so long, and relieved that he had an excuse to go back.

“Alright, it’s getting a little late, we should probably head home.”

Bucky frowned. “What? Already?”

“It’s six, Buck. It’s been fun, but I’d rather not spend all night out here.”

Bucky pouted. “Fine... but listen, don’t just start working again as soon as you get home!”

“Fine, I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Steve sighed. “Promise.”

They walked back to the building. Bucky walked Steve to his apartment, said goodbye, and left. Steve was alone.

The first thing he did was get on his computer and start working.


	3. Chapter 3

The next Saturday, Bucky came back to his apartment just before noon and invited him out to yoga again. He was smirking like the cat that got the canary; “Sam’s got classes from twelve ‘til four, so I’ve got an excuse to drag you out before you work yourself to death.” Steve tried to think of an argument, but he had none. So he let Bucky take him out to the park again, and this time they made it to Sam’s class as it started, instead of awkwardly inserting themselves in the middle. This meant they got to witness Sam’s glorious introduction.

“Alright, folks!” Sam said, clapping his hands together. “I’ve got a new routine for us today, and I’m sure _yoga-nna_ like this one!” The entire class groaned and shook their heads fondly. Sam just grinned wider. “Now I know new routines are sometimes kind of a hit or miss, so if you think this class is going _downward dog,_ don’t hesitate to come to me with suggestions! I’m pretty _flexible_ in that area!” 

“Wow.” Steve muttered dryly as he took up position next to Bucky

Bucky grinned. “If you liked that, you’re in for a treat; he starts every class that way.”

Sam was a good teacher. He was friendly and approachable, and he never hesitated to offer help, but he always did it in a way that didn’t leave the students ashamed about their lack of yoga skills. He tried to pay equal attention to everyone, making sure not to single out any one student. But there was one guy in the class who Sam seemed to be really focused on. He had dark skin and a short fuzzy beard, and some pretty damn impressive biceps. Steve got the feeling he did more than just yoga. He was wearing a white tank top with a picture of a cat in a bowtie.

Sam glanced over at Cat Guy every once in a while, let his gaze linger for a few seconds, then forced himself to look back at the other students. Repeatedly. At one point he went over to Cat Guy and put a hand on his back as if to correct his form, then just mumbled “Yup, yeah, looking good, keep doin’ what you’re doin’” and shuffled back to the head of the class. Steve gave him an amused smile, and Sam shot back an exasperated glare. 

“So who’s Cat Guy?” Steve asked after the class.

“He’s none of your damn business is who he is.” Sam grumbled.

Steve and Bucky went for a walk around the park, just like last time. Steve was amused to note that unlike last time, when Bucky’s flowers had shifted towards the position of the sun every time they turned, this time they just stuck straight up to meet the midday sun.

They walked and chatted idly for a few hours, and ended up heading home around three. Bucky said goodbye with a promise to take him back to the park next Saturday.

And next Saturday, there Bucky was, standing outside Steve’s door all ready to drag him out to yoga again. It was windy that day, and there was a gaggle of children flying kites in a grassy clearing. They stopped for a while and just watched them swooping through the air.

The fourth Saturday, Steve found out that Bucky worked at a library. He’d assumed he would work at a garden center or something, but the more he thought about it the more a library seemed perfect for Bucky. Quiet and slow-paced, with plenty of time to just drift in his thoughts.

The fifth Saturday, it started raining as they walked. Steve yelped and took cover under the gazebo, while Bucky grinned and stood out in the rain with his arm outstretched. “What are you hiding in there for?” He called.

“It’s _raining,_ Bucky!” As if it wasn’t obvious.

“That’s the point! Come on, live a little!” Bucky smiled and stretched out his hand, beckoning for Steve to come stand in the rain and get drenched with him.

Steve stayed in the gazebo. After a few moments Bucky sighed and walked under the gazebo with him, giving him an exasperated smile. “It’s just water, y’know. You’ll dry off.” He sat down on the bench, and water immediately pooled under him.

“I know, I just... I just washed these clothes, and...” Steve huffed. “I don’t know.”

Bucky shook his head. “Humans.”

The sixth, Saturday, they walked up to Sam’s spot in the park to find him doing flagpoles on a nearby lamppost. He was just hovering completely vertical in the air, supported only by his iron grip on the post. They walked up to him, and Steve – mouth gaping – asked, _“Why?”_

Sam grinned at him. “Just felt like getting a little workout in before class, is all.”

“You’re about to do yoga for four hours, do you really need a _pre-workout_ workout?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then his gaze fixed on something behind Steve. 

Steve turned around and found Cat Guy walking towards them, his shirt emblazoned with a pink cartoon cat. 

“Ohhh.” Bucky grinned. “You’re showing off.”

“I am not! Now shut up, he’s coming this way!”

Sam leapt off the pole just as Cat Guy walked up to them. “Oh, T’Challa, hey!” Sam said, clapping imaginary dust off his hands. He leaned ‘casually’ against the pole. “I was just, uh, doing a little workout before class.”

T’Challa blinked at Sam. “That’s... great.” Then he walked past them to set up the mat.

Bucky snickered behind his hand as T’Challa proceeded to ignore Sam completely. 

...

Saturday became a regular thing, as much a part of Steve’s schedule as his Saturday cleanups. And slowly but surely, the Saturday outings became the best part of Steve’s week. It was on the seventh Saturday, when three o’clock rolled around and they started back towards the building, when he realized he didn’t want to go home. He would _rather_ walk around and do nothing than work his ass off. Wasn’t that a strange feeling.

...

Then, one day, he was walking out of the Dairy Queen when Scott accosted him at the door and begged him to cover his shift on Friday. His daughter was coming over that day, he said. Her mom was busy and it was the only day she could drive her down, and the boss said he could only get off if he could get someone to cover his shift. 

Steve wasn’t exactly best friends with Scott – mostly because one of them was usually leaving the store just as the other came in – but he knew a few things about him; he knew that he kept an ant farm which he was irrationally invested in, and that he really, really loved his daughter. He also knew that his daughter lived in Maine, and it destroyed him living so far away from her. So any opportunity to spend a day with Cassie was precious.

Against his better judgement, Steve agreed. It couldn’t be that bad, right? After all, Steve was used to working hard. He’d just power through and he’d be fine the next morning. Definitely.

...

Friday night, Steve dragged himself back to his apartment after working a double shift. He collapsed on the bed with all his clothes still on. He wasn’t planning on falling asleep there; he told himself just a few minute’s rest, then he’d get up and change into his actual pajamas. But his limbs were so heavy and the bed was so soft...

The next thing he knew, he woke up to morning sun on his face. He was sprawled on top of the covers, fully clothed, with a horrid taste in his mouth. He didn’t feel refreshed; no way could he just snap out of bed and start the day. He still felt heavy, like the bed was pulling him in. So he curled in on himself, nestling his face into the pillow and telling himself he’d get up in just a few minutes. 

An hour later, Steve woke up again and mentally slapped himself for making allowances. He got up slowly, as if dredging himself out of a tar pit. He took a minute to decide between taking a shower and eating breakfast, but in the end, hunger won out. So he shuffled into the kitchen and began to throw together something easy and fast. Fast in theory, anyhow; he found himself moving slower than he thought any body had a right to. At one point he grabbed the spatula, only to space out for a few seconds and forget completely what he needed the spatula _for._ By that time, he had nearly burnt his eggs.

He sat down at the table with a ‘plop’, and started making his way slowly through the meal. Finally the plate was empty, and he just sat there for a few moments, staring at the plate and wishing he didn’t have to get up to wash it.

Then the door knocked.

Steve jolted and stared at the door for a second. Then he looked to the clock; it was almost noon. And the last thing Steve wanted to do was walk all the way to the park and then exercise. He opened the door to find Bucky standing there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and all ready to go. “Heya, Stevie! You ready to- whoa.” Bucky blinked, taking in Steve’s appearance. His rumpled clothing, messy hair and dark-rimmed eyes. “You okay?”

“I, uh... had a late night last night.” Steve sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m up for yoga today.”

He was expecting disappointment. Instead, Bucky grinned. “Hey, you’re learning!”

Steve frowned. “Learning?”

“Yeah! Cancelling plans for a relaxing day in is totally something a plant would do. Wait just a sec...” he pulled out his phone and started tapping. “There, I just texted Sam and told him you wouldn’t be there.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks, Buck.”

“No problem. So, uh...” Bucky glanced back into the hallway. “I guess I’ll leave you to it.” He started walking away.

“Wait!” Steve reached after him.

Bucky turned back around. “Yeah?”

Steve rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t just wanna lie around _by myself_ all day...”

A huge smile spread over Bucky’s face. “So... you still wanna spend the day with me?”

“Well... yeah. If you want to, I mean.”

Bucky’s smile somehow got even wider. “Of course I do! Hey, y’know what? You still haven’t been to my place yet, have you?”

Steve shook his head.

“So how about we spend the day there? We can sit around, maybe play some games- you can meet my roomies!” He closed the distance between him and Steve in two steps, then he took Steve’s hand and pulled him out the door. 

Steve only barely remembered to grab the keys and shut the door behind him.

Bucky didn’t let go of his hand. Steve’s face was heating up so fast he was sure he blazed a bright shade of crimson. Bucky’s hand was soft and nice and much, much bigger than Steve’s, and Steve didn’t really know why that thought made him blush even harder, but it did. 

It was over too fast. They reached Bucky’s apartment, and he had to let go of Steve’s hand to open the door.

Bucky grinned as he opened the door, like a ringmaster presenting his circus. “Welcome to my abode!”

Steve gaped. There were plants _everywhere._ On the floor, on the coffee table, on the dining table, on the kitchen counters, and on the windowsill. And where there weren’t plants, there was clutter. Clothing was strewn across the floor and over the back of the couch. Chinese takeout boxes littered every available inch of both the counter and the coffee table, rubbing shoulders with the plants. And the sink was so full of dirty dishes it looked like the ruins of an ancient temple.

“Well?” Bucky said. “Whaddya think?”

“It’s... definitely something.”

“Yeah! Pretty great, right?” Bucky closed the door behind him. 

Steve wandered around the house, staring at the pronounced mess with a haunted gaze. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He supposed he’d always known in the back of his mind that Bucky didn’t seem the type to be a diligent cleaner, but this was _madness._ The floor crunched as he walked on it.

“Bucky do you _ever_ clean this place?”

Bucky blinked. “Well, yeah.” He gestured around vaguely. “We, uh, we pick stuff up every once in a while.”

“By ‘every once in a while’, do you mean once a year?”

“Ehh... more or less, yeah.”

Steve put a hand on his forehead. “Dear God...” he whispered. He walked over to the couch and sat down on top of a lump of clothes.

The lump of clothes yelped and threw Steve off. Steve fell against the opposite couch-arm, and stared at the man who’d just emerged from the pile of laundry and was glaring at Steve like it was Steve's fault he got sat on.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

“Why were you in there!?” Steve squeaked.

“Oh, Clint, I was wondering where you were.” Bucky said, completely casual.

Steve’s eyes widened. “THIS PLACE IS SO MESSY YOU LOSE _PEOPLE_ IN IT!?”

Clint huffed. _“He_ didn’t lose _me,_ I’m my own man, I have the right to lose myself.” He looked Steve up and down with folded arms. He would’ve looked stern, if it weren’t for the intense bed-head and the shirt that proclaimed him the hot-dog eating champion of 2010. “Are you Steve?”

Steve nodded. 

Clint grinned. "Ohhh, you're Bucky's new pet project! Clint Barton. Nice to meet ya.” He shook Steve’s hand. “So what brings you over here? Thought you guys usually go to the park on weekends?”

Bucky answered. “Steve’s tired today, so we’re having a day in.”

Clint peered at Steve. “Yeah, he looks like he needs it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So,” Bucky rocked back and forth on his heels, “whaddya wanna do? We’ve got TV, we’ve got video games, we’ve got board games if you’re into that kinda thing...”

“Uhh...” A board game was a bad idea; Steve just knew his brain wouldn’t be able to take that kind of exercise right now. Same with a video game. And TV, he could watch at home...

Bucky said, “Orrr we could just hang out and chat?” 

Steve smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Bucky shooed Clint aside, and Clint scooted to the end of the couch, bringing the pile of clothes with him. Bucky sat down right in the middle, his thigh pressed against Steve’s. Steve could feel his face turning red for the third time that day.

“So, uh...” Steve looked across Bucky at Clint. “Clint, what do you do? Like, as a job?”

“I teach archery.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “They let you handle weapons?”

“Har-de-har-har. I’m actually a pretty good aim, if I do say so myself. Which I do.”

“Prove it.”

Clint shrugged. He fumbled around between the couch cushions until he found a pencil. He pointed to a box of cereal on top of the fridge. “Bet you I can hit the leprechaun’s eye.”

“No way.”

Clint tossed the pencil. With a thwack, it landed right smack-dab in the center of the leprechaun’s eye, straight through his pupil.

Steve gaped. “Holy shit.”

“Yup.” Clint smirked. “So what about you, where do you work?”

“It’s really nothing special... I work at Dairy Queen.”

“Wow.” Clint said. “Dream job.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve let his head fall against the back of the couch. Something tickled his forehead, and he looked up to find a plant in his face. “Huh.”

“Oh, that’s Destiny.” Bucky stroked the plant fondly. “She’s the biggest philodendron I’ve got!”

“Destiny sure seems to like me.” Steve muttered. 

“She does! She’s a friendly old girl, aren’t you, Destiny?” Bucky grinned. “Destiny here is my very first potted plant; I’ve had her since I was fifteen years old!” He chuckled. “I remember some days I’d stay in my room for hours, just chatting with her.”

“...Chatting?” Steve frowned. “You can talk to plants?”

“Yup! Well, some plants; my bromeliad’s a little rusty, and I can’t speak algae at all.”

Steve blinked. A month ago, he would have freaked out at the idea that Bucky could talk to plants. But he’d learned so many impossible things in such a short span of time – Bucky is part plant, Bucky can make his flowers dance at will, Bucky doesn’t have to eat human food – that it seemed he was just done being surprised. So instead of breaking, his brain just sighed in resignation and filed away the new tidbit in the ‘weird shit’ folder.

He shook his head. “Shame. I’ve always wanted to have a conversation with algae.”

“Hmm, same here.” Bucky nodded. “I’ve heard their culture is really cool, but the language is crazy hard. I tried learning it a few years ago, but I gave up because most of it is impossible to pronounce.”

“Right.” Steve chuckled. “Of course.”

Steve closed his eyes. He felt like he was sinking into the couch. For all it was old and ratty and covered in dirty clothes, it was soft. A little bit of afternoon sun tickled the top of his head, and he had Bucky next to him, soft and cuddly like a teddy bear. Now Steve didn’t think he could open his eyes if he wanted to. He reached up absently and patted at one of Destiny’s leaves without really knowing why. It just kinda seemed like the thing to do.

He didn’t notice when Bucky stopped talking and settled in beside him, head rested on the back of the couch. He didn’t notice when Clint got bored and went into his room to watch youtube videos. He didn’t notice when an entire half-hour went by with him dozing peacefully.

He woke up to the sound of the front door closing. He grunted and shifted in his seat, and opened his eyes to find a redhead staring at him, inches away from his face.

“What is this little man doing on my couch?”

Steve yelped and sat up straight. “Uh- who-”

“Hey, Nat.” Bucky smiled. He looked to Steve. “Steve, this is my other roommate Natasha. Natasha; Steve.”

“This is Steve?” Natasha squinted. “He looks... smaller than I pictured.”

Steve bristled. _“Excuse_ me?”

“Be careful with your tone, little man. I could eat you in one bite.”

Steve gulped and tried his best to disappear into the couch cushions. He looked desperately at Bucky for assistance.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “Aw, it’s okay Stevie! Nat might seem scary but she’s really just a big ol’ softie.”

Natasha stood up and faced him with her hand on her hip, expression completely deadpan. “Or maybe that’s a trick, meant to lull you into a false sense of security? Maybe I’m a cold-blooded killer masquerading as a softie pretending to be a cold blooded killer?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Bucky snorted. “Well if that’s true, then we’re all doomed. So, how was work?”

“Work was good.” She said only that, then turned on a dime and walked into the kitchen.

Bucky leaned towards Steve, grinning conspiratorially. “Nat works for the _government.”_

Steve raised his eyebrows. He looked at Natasha, all sharp lines and intimidating stature, the kind of woman who could kill you with a high-heeled shoe and never once mess up her nails. “CIA?” He muttered.

“Well...” Bucky shrugged. “She only ever says she ‘works for the government’, but CIA’s our best guess, yeah. Either that or some ultra-top-secret government agency that nobody knows about.”

Natasha rummaged around in the fridge. She pulled out a plastic tub of leftover Chinese takeout. Then she plucked a dirty fork from the sink, rinsed it for two seconds, flicked the water off and started eating. Steve shuddered. 

“So,” Natasha said around a mouthful of mei fun, “What is little Steve doing sleeping on our couch?”

Steve rubbed the back of his head. “I, uh... I didn’t really mean to fall asleep...”

Bucky grinned. “We were just photosynthesizing together!”

“Really?” Natasha’s eyebrows raised. “He doesn’t _look_ like a plant person... or are you just that good with makeup?”

“Nah, he’s human. But he appreciates the finer points of lyin’ in the sun, right Steve?” Bucky elbowed him gently in the arm.

“Yeah, I guess I do...”

Natasha finished the mei fun and threw the tub and fork into the sink. “Hey, Bucky; you should show Steve the little project you’ve got going in your room.”

Bucky lit up. “Yes! That’s a great idea!” He stood up and grabbed Steve’s hand. What was with Bucky and the grabbing of Steve’s hand. “Come on, you’ll love this!”

Bucky lead Steve to his bedroom door. He paused in front of the door, grinning. “Okay, so it’s not totally grown yet, so it doesn’t look quite as cool as it will when it’s done, but...” He opened the door.

Steve gaped. “Whoa.”

There were potted philodendrons hanging from the ceiling in all four corners of Bucky’s room. Each of them was being trained so that they grew along the top of the wall, and lush green vines hung down towards the floor. Steve could see immediately what it was meant to be; when the plants were grown enough, the vines would cover the walls like curtains, leaving not a single inch uncovered. Bucky was turning his room into a rainforest.

“Whaddya think?”

Steve smiled. “It’s pretty cool!”

“Yes! I knew you’d like it.” 

The room was… definitely Bucky’s. Besides the philodendrons, there were potted plants scattered across the floor, nestled amidst an ocean of dirty clothes that you just couldn’t avoid stepping on. There was a bookshelf against one wall, but instead of books it was full of potted plants. As a consequence, the books were in a pile on the floor. There was a futon in the corner, so thoroughly unmade that it resembled more of a nest than a bed. And on the floor near the head of the futon was another small collection of plants. Steve chuckled. “I bet the air’s pretty clean in hear, huh?”

Bucky frowned. It took him a second to catch Steve’s meaning. “Oh!” He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah… I think the folks at the garden center are starting to get concerned for my sanity. But, y’know,” he looked around, smiling fondly at the plants, “I’m used to living in a forest, so… I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t have these guys to keep me company.” 

He plopped down on the futon and patted the space next to him. 

Steve came over and sat down. He could feel the sun on his face. “So I’m guessing you put this across from the window for a reason?”

Bucky smiled. “Oh, yeah. This window gets great sun, especially in the mornings.” He sighed and leaned back on his hand. “Y’know, sometimes I feel kinda sorry for humans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, I don’t mean to make ya feel bad, but it’s kinda sad that you’ll never get to know what the sun really feels like.”

“I can feel the sun just fine; feels warm.”

“Yeah, but it’s _different_ when you’ve got chlorophyll!” Steve laughed, and Bucky sat up just so he could free up his hand and whack Steve in the arm. “I’m being serious!” He grinned. “Aw, man, lying out in the sun on a clear day... there’s nothing like it. Your whole body sings and you just start floating, and everything’s right in the world.” He flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. 

Steve smiled, leaned against the wall, and watched him. Watched as his chest moved up and down, as his flowers slowly moved up to meet the sun. He looked peaceful, like he’d found his heaven and settled down there. Like the embodiment of happiness.

It wasn’t until about five minutes had passed that Steve realized he had just spent that entire time staring at Bucky.

He had a problem.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve spent the rest of the afternoon at Bucky’s place, having a mild freakout in the back of his mind. 

Bucky lay back on the futon, chatting away. “So I followed the sound to the back of the garden section, and there it was, this poor little peace lily on the very bottom shelf that hadn’t been watered at all. It was almost dead! So I picked her up and hugged her...”

_He hugs plants to make them feel better._

“...Thriving now, she’s really made a comeback. Of course I talk to her whenever I can, she needs the emotional support...”

_Emotional support. For a plant._

At one point during the story, a cloud passed in front of the sun, and the room darkened. Bucky stopped mid-sentence and pouted at the window until the sun came back. Then he beamed, did a happy little wiggle, and started talking again. Steve’s heart did a little flip-flop in his chest. 

_Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no…_

Steve left at about four in the afternoon. He said goodbye to Bucky and his roommates, walked the halls back to his apartment, and closed the door. Then he leaned back against the door, stared into space, and wondered what the Hell he’d gotten himself into.

Steve wasn’t one for crushes. On top of being a mostly solitary creature, he just didn’t seem to _become interested_ in people as easily as others. In his life he’d had one boyfriend and one girlfriend; the boyfriend he’d dated for two weeks in second grade, and the girlfriend had been the love of his life for one year, at the end of which she’d had to move back to England. That had been six years ago. So when it came to matters such as these, it was fair to say that Steve was woefully out of practice. He didn’t know what to _do._

So he decided not to do anything. It was simpler that way; it removed tricky bits of protocol like _flirting_ and _figuring out his feelings,_ and trying to find out if Bucky was even into guys _anyway._ And besides, maybe if he just ignored his feelings they’d go away. It was worth a shot.

... 

The next day Steve got up, made breakfast, sat down, and started periodically looking out the window to see if Bucky was up yet. Purely for friendship purposes. He very pointedly ignored the way he lit up when Bucky started watering his plants, saw Steve, and smiled.

Steve smiled back, waving. 

Bucky picked up a piece of paper and scribbled in purple crayon, _“u have today off too, ye?”_

Steve grabbed a piece of paper and started writing a response, then stopped. He smacked his palm against his forehead, crossed out the words, and then just wrote his phone number. He put the paper in the window.

Bucky seemed confused for a split second, then went _ohhh,_ and pulled out his phone. 

A few seconds later, Steve got a call from an unknown number.

“How have we not done this already?” Bucky asked, talking to Steve through both the phone and the window as he watered his plants.

“I don’t know,” Steve was already making plans to name Bucky ‘Plant Nerd’ in his contacts. “I guess we just live so close we never really needed it?”

Bucky nodded. “I’m nodding.”

“Yeah, I can see you.”

Bucky looked back up at the window. “Oh yeah!” He grinned like it was the coolest thing since sliced bread.

Steve’s heart fluttered a bit in his chest, but he tamped down on it quickly. He had to keep his heart in check. He had to lock his heart in a jail cell with no visitation rights. Maybe then he could survive this.

“So hey, like I was saying,” Bucky watered his African violet as he talked, “you’ve got today off too, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So why don’t you go to yoga today?”

“Hm... I could, but not morning classes. I usually use Sunday morning to clean my place.”

Bucky frowned. “Your place? Like, your whole place?”

“Yup!”

“The whole apartment!? _Every Sunday!?”_ Bucky blew out a breath. “Jeeze.”

“Hey!” Steve crossed his arms. “I’ll have you know I enjoy cleaning!”

Bucky gave him a skeptical look through the window. “Really.”

“Yeah!” Before Saturdays with Bucky, cleaning the house on Sunday was the closest Steve had gotten to relaxing. It was an easy, no-pressure job that didn’t have money riding on it, and didn’t usually require too much thought. That’s why he would draw it out so long, cleaning things that didn’t need cleaning; most people wouldn’t think it necessary to scrub the floors and polish the doorknobs every week, but Steve indulged in it anyway. 

“Okay...” Bucky frowned at the floor, thinking to himself. “...Do you think I could come over and help?”

Steve let out a surprised laugh. “Why would you _want_ to?”

“So I can hang out with you!”

There was that annoying fluttering feeling again. Steve paused, and his mind raced with what to do. It was such an easy question, but... he already hung out with Bucky on Saturdays. If he added Sunday to the mix, his little infatuation could only get worse. He needed to stop this before it escalated. Heart, meet jail cell.

“Yeah, of course you can help!”

_Dammit._

Bucky grinned. “Awesome! When can I come over?

“Whenever you want, I usually start right after breakfast.”

Bucky nodded. “Alright, I guess I’ll leave you to that, then?”

“Yeah.” Steve realized belatedly that his eggs were probably getting cold.

Bucky waved goodbye and hung up.

Steve really wanted to plant his forehead on the table, but Bucky could still see him. So he ate his eggs in what he hoped was the most normal, un-distressed way possible.

...

As promised, Bucky came over to Steve’s apartment bright and early, just before Steve got started. “Hey! Wow, you look...”

Steve was already wearing his dish gloves and apron, with a bandana around his head keeping his hair out of his face. “I look...?”

“Like a lunch lady.”

Steve rolled his eyes and smacked him on the arm. “Come on.” He led Bucky inside, and went to dig around in the kitchen for the cleaning supplies.

Bucky gazed around the apartment, looking progressively more confused. “Uh... Steve.”

“What is it?” Steve asked, head buried in the cabinet under the sink.

“There’s nothing to clean.” 

Steve frowned. He looked up and surveyed the neat, white apartment, with its floors perfectly clear and its furniture perfectly stain-free. “Are you kidding me? This place is a mess.” He came away from the kitchen with a spare dish glove, a bottle of cleaner, a box of baking soda, two washcloths and two sponges. The brooms were already propped against the wall. He plopped the supplies down on the kitchen table. “Alright, let’s get to work!”

Bucky looked if Steve had just handed him an octagonal Rubik’s cube and said “Here, solve this.” 

Steve tried to take pity on him, offer him an easy out. “Y’know, you don’t have to help me, I’d be fine on my own.”

“No!” Bucky screwed up his face, squared his shoulders, and picked up the baking soda. “I can do this!”

“Right, of course you can. Well, uh... I guess since you’ve already got the baking soda, you can try cleaning the bathroom sink, and... I’ll get the kitchen sink.” Maybe if he kept them doing jobs on opposite ends of the apartment, they wouldn’t have a problem.

He shooed Bucky over to the bathroom with the baking soda and a sponge. Steve took a little bowl of baking soda for himself, and started on the kitchen sink. He scrubbed and hummed away for a few moments, before he heard a worried, “Um...”

“Bucky?” Steve looked up. “What is it?”

“I think I used too much...”

Steve walked over to the bathroom and looked inside the sink. There was a pile of baking soda right over the drain, about two inches high. He snorted. 

Bucky sighed. “Yeah, I used too much.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Steve waved him off. “Just, uh...” he reached in with a gloved hand and spread the soda around a bit, to demonstrate, “get it all over and scrub away.”

Bucky nodded, determined. “Right.”

Steve was about to go back to the kitchen. He really was. But then the bathroom cabinet caught his eye, and he thought it really was about time he cleaned the thing out. And if he ended up bumping elbows with Bucky while he did it, well... sacrifices had to be made for cleanliness.

“Whaddyou like so much about this, anyway?” Bucky grumbled as he scrubbed.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno, I never really thought about it.” He took the washcloths out of the cabinet and re-folded them so they looked neater. “I guess... it’s nice to have something I can really see happening. Something with a definite end.” He sighed. “With work it’s just day in, day out, make money spend money, the cycle continues... but with cleaning, at the end of the day I can see I did something. I made a difference.” He chuckled. “Even if it gets messy again a week later.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause your place is _so_ messy.”

Steve elbowed him in the shoulder. “Shut up.” He smiled to himself. He looked over to check Bucky’s progress on the sink, and found it shining like new. “Hey, good job!”

“Really?” Bucky beamed at the praise. It lit something up in Steve, seeing him so happy like that.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you’re a natural!” He glanced back at the cabinet, and reasoned that there was only so much time he could spend re-arranging the soap. “Alright, let’s head to the kitchen.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “What, there’s more?”

Steve grinned. “Yup! I said the whole apartment, remember?”

Bucky sighed and dragged his feet dramatically into the kitchen. Steve noticed, however, that he didn’t exactly ask to leave.

The apartment was, of course, a studio, so it didn’t take long to work through every “room”. They cleaned first the kitchen, then... the rest of the apartment. It really was small. 

At first Steve had been worried he’d have to teach Bucky how to do everything. After all, the state of his apartment alone could attest that he was a complete stranger to the world of tidying up. As it turned out, he seemed perfectly able to clean; but he did keep wondering – loudly – why they had to.

“But why do the doorknobs need polishing? It’s either a knob or a mirror, pick one!”

“This is ridiculous, not even an old-timey butler could find dust on this desk.”

“Vacuums were not meant to go on couches.” 

Finally they swept the whole floor, and they were done; the whole process had only taken them about an hour. Steve stood in the middle of the apartment with his arms akimbo, and a triumphant grin on his face.  
Bucky staggered across the floor and flopped dramatically onto the couch.

“Bucky!” Steve squeaked, half in amusement, half in indignation. “We just straightened the pillows!”

“No,” Bucky was muffled by the couch, “I straightened the pillows; I think I have the right to mess them up again.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked over to the couch. “Scoot over.” He shooed Bucky’s legs over and sat down next to him. 

Bucky propped himself upright and looked around the room. “I can’t believe you do this _voluntarily._ I think I’m too tired to go to yoga, now.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I guess it isn’t for everyone-” He froze.

Bucky had just flopped onto his side, and was leaning against him with his eyes closed.

“Uh...” 

“Shh. We did your thing. Now we do my thing. Naptime.”

Steve’s face turned red. He sat very still for a few moments. Then he shifted around and lay down on the couch, with his head propped up against a throw pillow. Bucky shifted with him and lay his head down on Steve’s collarbone. He wasn’t as warm as Steve would expect him to be, probably because he wasn’t human. It was nice, how cool he was; like the other side of a pillow. 

He looked down at Bucky. His eyes were closed, and his lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful, like an angel. Steve got the sudden urge to lean down and kiss him. And maybe... maybe if Bucky was already cuddling up on him like this, that might not be such a bad idea?

Steve shook himself out of it. No way was he lucky enough for Bucky to like him that way. Besides, friends did stuff like this, right? Friends could lie on top of each other and nuzzle their noses into each other’s collarbones...

...Right?


	5. Chapter 5

The week went on. Steve and Bucky continued to have little chats through the window in the mornings, and Steve continued to pine hopelessly over Bucky and wonder what he’d gotten himself into. Some days he found himself asking his plants for advice out of sheer desperation, the way one talks to a dog or a teddy bear.

“I don’t even know what I should be _doing_ here.” Steve sat on the floor and lamented to Sunset. “I mean, it’s obvious I’m not getting over him, but that doesn’t mean he likes _me._ What if I try to flirt with him or something and it grosses him out?” A thought occurred to him. “God, what if plant-people don’t even _do_ relationships!?” He looked imploringly at Sunset for answers. Sunset, predictably, said nothing. “You’re no help.” Steve muttered.

He had the oddest feeling she was rolling her eyes at him.

... 

On Saturday, he and Bucky headed down to yoga, as always. Sam greeted them, said they’d been missed, and started the class.

It was good for Steve to throw himself into the class. It was something he could focus on, something he knew he could accomplish. This week it was especially needed, what with all the unanswered questions buzzing around in Steve’s brain. Doing yoga, he could just relax and give himself over to the routine.

Then he glanced over at Bucky, and his brain broke.

Bucky was breathtaking. The way his body arced through the air when he stretched backwards, the way his muscles tensed during the ground poses as he held himself up with just one arm. The way his flowers slowly shifted to face the sun, joining him in his movements. The shapes of Bucky’s body were beautiful and fluid, and just begging to be captured in graphite. Steve found himself longing to pick up his pen, and not out of guilt or obligation; for the first time in a long time, he felt the urge to draw just because he really, really wanted to.

“You okay?” Sam called.

That’s when Steve realized he’d zoned out, and hadn’t noticed when the others transitioned into a new pose. “Yeah, I’m good...” He mumbled.

Sam grinned at Steve like he was the funniest joke he’d heard in a long time. Steve glared as he sank into downward dog.

After the class, Sam pulled Steve aside. 

“Dude, you got it _bad.”_ He snickered.

Steve scowled. “You’re one to talk.” He jabbed his thumb toward T’Challa, who was chatting with one of the other students. He was wearing a black t-shirt today, with a pattern of white cartoon cats. He definitely had a theme going on.

Sam cringed. “Low blow, man.”

“I just-” Steve sighed, glancing over at Bucky. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground having a conversation with a tree. “I haven’t really _liked_ anyone in a long time, I have no idea what to do!” He looked hopefully up at Sam.

“Oh no, you’re not getting any advice outta me. I mean,” Sam gestured vaguely in T'Challa's direction, “do I _look_ like I have game?”

T’Challa said, “I don’t know, do you?” 

Sam yelped. T’Challa was standing right next to him, and neither of them had even noticed him walk up. He was like a ninja. Or a _cat._ “Oh, h-hey!” Sam laughed shakily. “Hey there, how’s it going? Uh...”

T’Challa cleared his throat, then said, with a completely straight face; “Sam, I think you are _paw_ -sitively _purr_ -fect.” He rolled the ‘R’ in ‘purr’. “Would you go _meowt_ with me?”

Steve planted his face in his hand. “Oh my God.”

Sam’s whole face lit up. “Yes! Yeah, of course, yes! Where, uh, where do you want to go?”

“There is an Indian restaurant down the street which I am partial to, perhaps we could go there after you are finished teaching?”

Sam nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I’d love that!”

T’Challa smiled. “I will see you then.” He waved, and walked out of the park.

Sam kept smiling dumbly long after T’Challa left.

Steve broke the spell by saying, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I think you mean,” Sam grinned, “you’ve gotta be _kitten_ me!”

“Oh my God.”

...

That afternoon, as Steve and Bucky walked back to their apartments, Sam and T’Challa were the topic of conversation.

“Seriously, he was pining after T’Challa for weeks before you started the class.” Bucky chuckled as they rode the elevator. “I was startin’ to think about staging an intervention.”

“To be fair, Sam _did_ try.” Steve said, thinking of the flagpole incident.

Bucky shrugged. “Well, yeah.” They stepped out into the hallway. “But I don’t get why he couldn’t just ask the guy out, y’know? Life’s too short to beat around the bush.”

Steve thought about how desperately he wanted to push Bucky against the wall and kiss the daylights out of him. “Yeah, why hide your feelings?”

As usual, Bucky walked Steve to his apartment and said goodbye at the door. “Don’t work too hard now, ‘kay Stevie?”

Steve snorted. “No promises. And you; you’ve gotta clean up your apartment like I keep nagging you to!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to it.” He waved goodbye and jogged out into the hall. “See ya next Saturday!”

Steve waved back. “You too! Bye!” He closed the door.

He went over to his computer and opened up his drawing program.

He almost, almost opened up the file for his latest commission.

Then he opened up a blank page and started drawing Bucky. He drew him arcing in impossible poses, his body fluid and graceful. He drew him beaming at the viewer, his smile as bright as the sun. He drew him sound asleep, eyes closed and lips half-parted. 

He didn’t really get much work done that night. 

...

The next day, Bucky called just as Steve was in the middle of cleaning. “Buck?”

“Hey, d’ya wanna come over today?”

Steve surveyed his spotless apartment; he still had a lot to do. “I’m still cleaning, but yeah, I can come over later. Why?” He kept on scrubbing the kitchen sink like he had a vendetta. 

“I’m potting up some baby spider-plants, I thought you might wanna help.”

“...That involves dirt, right?”

There was a pause. “It’s cool if you don’t wanna help, I just thought-”

“No!” Steve stood up so fast he banged his head on the overhead counter. “Ow- shit-” He hissed and grabbed his head.

“Uh... Steve?”

“I’m fine! And yeah, I’ll definitely come over!” 

“Great! I’ll get everything ready!” He hung up. 

Steve slipped the phone back into his pocket and finished defending his title as the Scourge of All Filth.

About half an hour later, Steve emptied the last of the dust into the wastebasket and headed over to Bucky’s apartment. Bucky opened the door with a grin and beckoned Steve inside. The place was just as dirty as he remembered it.

Natasha was lying on the couch, reading a book. Steve couldn’t tell what book it was because the title was in Russian. 

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “A _Russian_ spy? Should I be scared?”

Natasha wiggled her eyebrows, said something in Russian, and went back to the book.

Steve just blinked, shook his head, and resolved not to read into it.

Bucky walked over to the windowsill, picked up a giant, healthy-looking spider-plant, and hefted it into the kitchen. He nearly put it down on the breakfast bar, but stopped when he saw how much junk was piled up. He contemplated it for a second, then handed the plant to Steve. “Here, hold this.”

Steve watched in horror as Bucky swept his arm across the breakfast bar and pushed all the junk right onto the ground. “What the fuck!?”

Bucky blinked at him. “What? I needed a space, so I made a space.”

“But you didn’t have to throw it on the ground!” Steve put the plant down on the counter. “Look, doesn’t all that have someplace it can _go?”_

Bucky shrugged. 

Steve sighed. Then he leaned over and started picking up all the junk. Takeout boxes, junk mail, dirty paper towels; you name it, he found it. “Where’s the trash can?” He asked with an armful of garbage. Bucky pointed to one of the cabinets under the counter. 

Steve went back and forth a few times, and gradually the garbage pile got smaller and smaller. He took the stuff that looked important – _“Bills,_ Bucky, these are _bills,_ you can’t just put them in a pile and forget about them,” – and put them in an organized stack on the counter. 

When he looked up, Bucky was leaning over the breakfast bar on his elbows, watching Steve with a tiny smile on his face.

Steve furrowed his brow. “What is it?”

Bucky looked surprised, as if someone had jolted him out of a daydream. “Nothing! Nothing, just...” He laughed. “I’ll go get the pots, I guess...” He scurried off into his room. When he came back, he was balancing ten tiny clay pots in the crook of his arm, and gripping a huge bag of potting soil in his fingers.

Steve raised his eyebrows. It looked... alarmingly precarious. “Need any help?” 

“Nah, I got it.” Bucky swung the bag up onto the breakfast bar, nearly missing the spider-plant. It landed with a thump. Then he just poured the tiny pots out onto the marble surface. Steve winced when he heard them clinking around, but mercifully, none of them broke. “Alright,” Bucky said, “here’s what we do.” He gestured to the plant. “See all those baby plants?”

The plant had several long stems growing out from the base. Each one was drooping with the weight of several tiny spider-plants. “Yeah.” 

“You wanna look for the ones that are growing little roots, and snap ‘em off.” Bucky demonstrated by pinching off one of the plants and holding it up, showing Steve the tiny rootlets poking out of the bottom. “Then you just fill a pot with soil, poke the plant in, and move onto the next one.”

Steve nodded. “Right, okay.” He got to work looking for a baby with roots. He soon found one, and snapped it off like Bucky had. He smiled down at it. There was something nice about holding a baby plant in his hand. A whole life, right there in his palm. He looked up to grab a pot, and saw Bucky reaching into the bag and grabbing a handful of dirt.

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “We’re using our hands?”

Bucky paused, hand in the air. A crumb of soil fell to the floor. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Steve screwed up his face, squared his shoulders, and picked up one of the pots. “I can do this!”

Bucky smiled. “Right, of course you can.” He went back to filling his pot. It was tiny, so it only took about two handfuls before he was poking the plant in and patting down the soil around it. “There’s just something real nice about having your hands in a pile of dark, healthy soil.” He mused, smiling to himself.

“Yeah?” Steve peered into the bag, trying to muster up the courage to stick his hand in it.

“Yeah! It’s soft and moist and the _smell,_ man, the _smell!”_ Bucky grabbed a handful and held it up in front of Steve. “Here, try!”

Steve stared at him for a second. Then he leaned in and sniffed the dirt. 

“Huh?” Bucky grinned at him, obviously expecting something.

“It smells... like dirt.”

“It smells like life, Stevie!” Bucky pulled the dirt closer to himself and looked at it with something akin to reverence. “There’s a whole ecosystem in here right now, thousands of tiny critters workin’ together to keep this soil healthy. And then as soon as something takes root in it, now the plant’s part of the system, and the soil’s workin’ together to keep the plant healthy. And then the plant starts filtering the air, and workin’ to keep the _world_ healthy. It’s all one big circle and it all starts with soil!”

Steve blinked. “Wow. Dirt’s pretty great, huh?”

“It is!” Bucky let the dirt fall back into the bag. He was still smiling like dirt was the coolest thing in the world. It was infectious, and Steve found himself smiling with him.

“Okay, I guess if it’s that great...” Steve took a deep breath and stared down the bag. Then he shoved his hand in. It was definitely soft, and he had to admit it kinda smelled nice. But it was still dirt, and his hand was covered in it now. He grabbed a handful and dropped it in the pot as quickly as possible, then inspected his dirt-covered hand with a huff.

Bucky grinned at him. “Congratulations, you’ve officially been initiated into the plant club!”

Steve chuckled. “Hooray...” he fought the instinct to wipe his hand off on his shirt and create more mess. Instead he disciplined himself into sticking his hand in the dirt again, and filling the pot. He had to admit,  
there was something satisfying about seeing the tiny spider-plant nestled in the soil. It felt like a job well done.

They continued like that for a bit, potting spider-plants and chatting. Every once in a while Bucky would take a big handful of dirt, stick his nose in it and just inhale. Steve couldn’t help but find it adorable. Halfway through, Natasha finished her book and headed out to the “arts center”, which might have been a secret spy code-word, and might have been an actual art center. Steve supposed he’d never know. 

“So what are you gonna do with all these, anyway?” Steve asked as he patted down the soil around a baby plant. They only had two to go, and then that was it for rooted spiderlings. 

“Keep ‘em, I guess.”

Steve looked around at the rainforest that was Bucky’s apartment. “Are you sure you have room?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, it’ll be fine; I’ve always got room for new plants. Unless...” He smiled, “do you wanna take some home?”

Steve looked down at the tiny bundles of leaves. “Oh, alright... just a few.”

Bucky grinned and pumped his fist. “I knew it! I got you hooked!” 

Steve chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that...” He reached tentatively for one of the pots. “...How many?”

“As many as you want; anything to see your collection grow.”

Steve nodded and started picking out plants. At first, he only took one; the biggest, healthiest looking plant that he was sure he’d be able to keep alive. But then there was also that funny looking one that was way taller and skinnier than it had any right to be. And there was the one he’d dropped on the floor and apologized to before he knew what he was doing, he was kind of attached to that one. And then there was the runt of the litter, the tiny one with maybe one or two leaves that Bucky was worried wouldn’t make it. 

In the end Steve had four plants, and Bucky looked way too triumphant.

“Don’t gimme that look.” Steve huffed dramatically.

“What look? I’m not giving you a look.” Bucky gave him a smug look. “Alright, now you gotta name ‘em.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, uh... Susan, Mildred, Bettie and Nellie.”

Bucky snorted. 

“What? Those are perfectly good names!”

“They’re old lady names, what are you, ninety?”

“They’re _classics!”_

Bucky only laughed harder.

Steve huffed in mock anger, and turned his back to Bucky, giving him the cold-shoulder. 

Bucky chuckled. “Aw, c’mon Stevie, you know I love ya!”

Steve froze. His heart leapt into his throat.

“...Steve?”

 _It’s just a figure of speech, it’s just a figure of speech, it’s just a figure of speech_ “Yeah?” Steve forced himself to sound as casual as possible.

“You’re not really mad at me, are ya?”

Steve turned back around. Bucky looked genuinely worried, rubbing his arm and looking down at the counter. Steve sighed and nudged him in the arm with his elbow. “Nah, of course not.” He put on a smile. “But you make fun of my naming skills again, and we’ve got a problem.”

Bucky smiled back. “Got it.”

“Good.” Steve headed over to the sink and washed the first off his hands. It was easier to look at the faucet than to risk looking at Bucky.

Bucky insisted on walking him over to his apartment so he could say hi to the plants. So they walked through the hallways together, Steve juggling four tiny pots in his arms. When they got to the apartment, Bucky went straight for Steve’s little jungle and whistled. “Stevie, you’re a natural!”

“Aw, I don’t know about that...” Steve smiled, setting the spider-plants down on the kitchen counter. 

Steve’s plants were flourishing, due mostly to the fact that Steve never, ever forgot to water them. As the king of schedules, he watered meticulously and always fertilized them right on time. He’d fiddled with a compass until he figured out exactly where to place each plant for the best light exposure, and then arranged them so that they shaded each other just enough for comfort. If plants could walk, they would flock to  
Steve Rogers’ apartment. Steve laughed to himself as he realized that might explain Bucky.

“Come on, don’t be modest!” Bucky grinned. “In fact, I think it might be time to move you up to harder stuff!” He knelt down in front of Sunset. “Whaddya think, Sunset, is Steve ready for orchids?” Then he paused, staring at Sunset for a moment. He gave Steve a bewildered look, then looked back to the plant.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky snapped himself out of it and stood up. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.” His face was red. “I, uh- fine. So, hey, I guess I’ll get going now.”

“...Okay? Bye, I guess.”

“Bye!” Bucky waved goodbye and jogged out the door.

Steve blinked at the door for a second. Then he sighed and shook his head. “What was that about?” He asked Nellie. Then, because Nellie was a plant, he walked away without waiting for an answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky was acting weird.

Ever since the day they’d potted spider-plants together, he’d been more spacey than usual, and miles more awkward. Normally it seemed like nothing really fazed Bucky; nothing was enough to embarrass him, not boneheaded mishap nor social faux-pas. But over the course of the week, he started stumbling over his words and turning red at the oddest moments. It worried Steve. It made him wonder if he was doing something wrong, if maybe he was making Bucky uncomfortable. He didn’t think he could handle it if that was the case.

On Saturday, they went to yoga as always. Sam and T’Challa were making eyes at each other the entire time; it was disgustingly adorable, and all Steve could think of was that he wanted Bucky to look at him like that. 

Steve looked over at Bucky, half-hoping to find him with hearts in his eyes, and Bucky immediately averted his gaze and looked at the ground. Steve’s stomach sank.

After yoga, as they walked around the park, Steve found his mind racing. There was an infinite amount of worries bouncing around in his head, swirling and burning and scraping at the inside of his skull. Bucky was talking. He was only half listening because the chaos inside his head was so loud. Saturdays had become a day of peace for him, a day when he could just let go and relax. And here he was, stressing out. It seemed like he couldn’t get away from it. 

“...Hey, Steve?” Bucky said as they walked past the gazebo.

“Yeah?” Steve looked up at him and tried desperately not to think about all the ways he could’ve screwed their friendship up, all the ways he could’ve ruined such a good thing.

Bucky looked at the ground as he spoke. “Steve, I-”

Something boomed in the distance, and they both jumped and looked up at the sky. Steve squinted. “Was that...”

The next second, the sky exploded, and suddenly it was pouring buckets. Steve yelped and ran into the gazebo, cowering in the shade of the roof. 

Bucky looked up at the sky, then back to Steve, a question in his eyes.

Steve waved him off. “You go ahead, I’m fine!”

Bucky nodded, smiled, ran out into the field and just stood there. He became soaked in an instant, his clothing dark, his hair clinging to his face. He looked like he was having the time of his life out there in the mud and rain. And here was Steve, cowering in the gazebo. Because…

 _Because this is your best shirt,_ he thought to himself. 

_But shirts can be washed,_ he thought right back. 

_But you’ll get dirty._

_But I can be washed, too._

_But there’s no point to just running around in the rain, looking like an idiot!_

Steve huffed. He squared his shoulders and scrunched up his face in determination.

 _But why should I care?_

Before he could chicken out, he stuck his arm out from under the gazebo.

He flinched. It was cold. Cold and wet. But not... bad. It was kind of nice, the pattering sensation, like a little massage. He leaned a bit forward. Now his arm was getting wet, and okay, this wasn’t so bad. Then his grip slipped on the railing, and he pitched forward and stepped straight in a puddle.

He stood there for a second, bewildered as the water soaked through his shoes and drenched his socks. That was it; that was the point of no return. And it felt so good. He laughed to himself. He looked up at the sky, rumbling and roaring and pouring water on everyone underneath it like it just didn’t give a fuck; it didn’t. And if the sky didn’t care, why should Steve? Hysterically, he thought, what’s the worst that could happen to him when he already had wet socks?

Next thing Steve knew, he ran out into the field, whooping and jumping and running through the mud.

“Steve!?” Bucky startled as he ran past. He gave a short, surprised laugh. “Steve, what are you doing?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Steve yelled, a huge smile on his face. He felt like twirling around, so he did, spinning under the sky and letting the rain drench his shirt, his pants, his everything. He felt like walking around barefoot, so he did, kicking off his shoes and socks and squishing the mud between his toes. He laughed and skipped and kicked up mud and ruined the cuffs of his jeans. And then he slipped and fell on his back, and he was lying on the wet squishy ground getting his clothes dirty and letting the rain fall in his face and he patently didn’t care. 

“Oh my God!” Bucky laughed. He ran over and knelt beside him. “What’s gotten into you, I thought you hated getting dirty?”

Steve propped himself up on his hand. He shrugged. “I dunno, I just... felt like it.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment. For a moment Steve felt his heart sink as he started to worry again, as the storm inside his head started to pick up and cause trouble.

But then Bucky said, “Can I kiss you?”

Steve’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Can I kiss-’

“Yes,” Steve's mouth blurted it out on autopilot because his brain was too confused and excited and overwhelmed to think.

Bucky put his hand on Steve’s cheek. He leaned in. And suddenly Bucky’s lips were on his. They were both wet and sitting on the ground, and the sky was pouring down on them like it wanted to wash them off the Earth, and there was a bit of mud on Bucky’s hand which he was spreading all over Steve’s cheek. But it was sweet, and Bucky’s lips were soft, and he cradled Steve’s head like he was a fragile blossom, and it was so, so perfect. 

Finally they pulled away, and spent a moment just staring into each other’s eyes. Then Steve said, “Really?”

Bucky blinked. “Of course ‘really’, what, you think I’m joking?”

“But why now?” Steve searched Bucky’s face for answers, so happy but so confused. “I didn’t think you even liked me that way, I thought-” he cut himself off. He didn’t really know what he thought.

Bucky rubbed the back of his head. “Honestly, I... I’ve liked you for a long time. Pretty much since we met. I mean, why d’ya think I kept bringing you plants?”

Steve gaped, his mind reeling as he tried to reimagine every past interaction with Bucky in the context of this revelation.

“But it kinda scared me. Plant-people don’t really do that kinda thing, and I thought I musta been a freak of nature for wanting it, so I tried to just bottle it up. But then Sunset told me you felt the same way, and...”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Sunset?” He squeaked. “Oh God... you can talk to plants.” Bucky could talk to plants, and he’d ranted about his feelings to a _plant_ who he got from _Bucky._ He buried his face in his hands just as his cheeks turned red.

“Awww, Stevie!” Bucky laughed and put his arm around him.

“I’m an idiot.” Steve mumbled.

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” Bucky froze. “Maybe? Shit, I don’t mean to force anything on you, you don’t gotta-”

Steve cut him off. “I’d be your idiot, if you want me?” He took his face out of his hands and gave a shy smile. 

“Yes!” Bucky grinned. “Yes, yeah, of course!” He pulled Steve close and squeezed him tight, and for a moment they just sat there in each other’s embrace.

Then Steve felt something tickling his face. He pulled away just enough to see Bucky’s flowers facing straight towards him, close enough that he could see the little yellow centers, and he realized, suddenly, after all this time, that they were Forget-Me-Nots.

“Buck?”

“Hm?” Bucky cocked his head.

“What are they doing?” Steve pointed to the flowers, which were doing their best to reach for Steve’s face.

Bucky glanced at the flowers, then smiled. “I told ya, they grow towards the sun.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You’re my sun, Stevie.”

Steve’s flushed crimson right down to his neck. He pitched forward and buried his face in Bucky’s chest, muttering something unintelligible into the fabric.

“What’d you say?” Bucky held him close, smiling fondly. “I can’t hear you through my t-shirt.”

Steve lifted his face just enough to say, “You’re such a sap.”

Bucky laughed. “Aww, but I’m _your_ sap!”

“Yeah,” Steve rose up and gave him a peck on the lips, “you are.”

...

Across the park, Sam yelled “I CALLED IT!” And T’Challa handed over ten bucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last official chapter! After this, all I've got for this story is an epilogue and maybe a really sappy author's note.


	7. Epilogue

Bucky was insistent that Steve try cultivating orchids. He said that with Steve’s diligent schedule-keeping and attention to detail, he had no excuse not to move up to “the next difficulty setting” in plant-rearing. He also insisted that Steve get his orchid from a local breeder and not a store, because “I know Bruce and his orchids are so much better than the ones at the friggin’ supermarket, just trust me.”

This was what led to Steve wandering around in an unfamiliar neighborhood, farther than he’d ever walked from his apartment. And all for some fancy flower.

He turned a corner, and a shock of red immediately caught his eye. There was a postal worker on the steps of a building across the street, with beautiful bright-red hair. Steve’s artist’s-brain gave an appreciative hum, and he kept on walking.

Then he caught up with the postal worker enough to see her face, and Steve reeled when he realized who it was.

“Natasha?” He squeaked, frozen in his steps.

Natasha looked up, a pile of letters in her hands. She looked surprised for a second, then fell into a neutral expression. “Oh, Steve.”

Steve blinked. “But- you- I thought you were a _spy?”_

Natasha shrugged. “I said I worked for the government, you guys filled in the rest.” She put the letters in the mailbox and tapped back down the steps. “And besides,” she said, arching her eyebrow, “how do you know I’m not undercover?” She gave him a sly smile and walked away.

Steve stood frozen to the sidewalk for a minute. Then he put his head down and hurried down the street. Some questions were better left unanswered...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this fic! 
> 
> Gosh, this has been such an adventure, and it's been so wonderful having you guys along for the ride! I got so many nice comments from so many lovely people, and I just wanna thank each and every one of you for being so supportive through this whole fic! 
> 
> If you want to talk to me about plant people or just say hi, you can find me on tumblr [here](http://master-of-pocket-worlds.tumblr.com)


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